Sempre Amor
by Moth Mask
Summary: A fight between France and England becomes a nuclear war. When the other nations run and hide, only two speak against the crowd. Can they convince the others to fight back while there's still something to fight for? Full summary and warnings inside.
1. Prologue

**Full summary:**

When a fight between France and England goes too far, the other nations are forced to duck for cover. As they huddle in groups ranging in size from three to twenty people, waiting for the war to blow over, only two nations dare to speak out against the crowd. Can they convince the others to fight back while there's still something left to fight for?

**Warnings:**

lots of violence; language; yaoi/shounen-ai, het, and yuri/shoujo-ai; more national personifications than anyone would care to count, including many OCs (those being any countries that don't have Hetalia personifications) and minor characters; near-apocalyptic themes; possibly other things I don't remember at the moment

Written 10:40 PM 5/27/2011 – 8:15 PM 5/28/2011

**A/N**

Now that I've finished that Invader Zim fanfic, I can start a new fic without feeling like a total jackass~ :D I got the idea for this not long ago. Earlier this week or _maybe_ last week? Something like that. But anyway, to ensure that we don't have a repeat of last time, I've decided to be a couple of chapters ahead in writing of what I have published. That way, if I hit a lack of motivation, I won't leave everyone hanging with no warning whatsoever~

So, now that my before!note is probably as long as the freaking prologue, I think I'll start writing.

**Much thanks to xChibi-Nick for beta-ing :3**

**I own nothing.**

**~o~**

Monaco sat on the couch, glaring at the television, and trying her best to ignore her surroundings. It wasn't an easy feat, either. The whole apartment was in disrepair.

The walls, which had once been a beautiful shade of ruby, were now faded to a pale pink. The ceiling had dark spots from water damage, and the floor was hardly visible under all the garbage and the thick layer of dust. What could be seen of the floor was a rough beige carpet that had probably been as white and soft as fresh snow at one point.

The couch, the only piece of furniture in the room besides a chunk of wood that might've once been an end table, was in just as bad a state as everything else. It had several holes of varying sizes, and several stains of various odors. One stain seemed particularly evil, and Monaco made sure to sit as far away from it as possible without sitting on the floor.

Or rather, the pile of old newspapers on the floor surrounding the couch.

Even the television was disgusting, the whole thing covered in dust. It had two flimsy antennae, bent and broken, and the screen was cracked. All in all, the apartment Monaco sat in was a dump, and it certainly didn't help alleviate her bad mood.

oOo

Monaco sat on the disgusting couch, in the equally disgusting room, wishing desperately that she had something, _anything_ to inflict pain or damage on. Sadly, the rest of the apartment was as much of a wreck as the living room, so there was nothing to destroy. So, the young woman focused all her anger on the TV.

Ironically, what was playing on the TV was exactly the thing that had her so angry to begin with.

oOo

On the cracked, dusty screen, there were two men. It was a pre-recorded scene, and it had the world on the edge of its seat.

The man on the left was, in a word, gorgeous. He had medium-length, wavy hair that was as golden as the sunset. His light blue eyes shimmered in the well-lit conference room. His gaze alone would make any woman (and many men) give him their full attention, a good amount of respect, and maybe a kidney. His somewhat effeminate clothing did nothing to detract from the image. If anything, the billowing blue-violet shirt added to his beauty.

The man on the right was... to be honest, he was a bit odd-looking. His eyebrows were unusually large, but his shaggy blonde hair looked nice enough. He wore a simple white dress shirt, with a green jacket and black tie. He gave off a mildly intimidating aura, not unlike that of a weary parent. Most of all, he seemed to detest being seated so close to the other man, who was studiously ignoring him in favor of winking suggestively at the camera.

They obviously were not the best of friends.

The two men had namecards on the table in front of them. The man on the left's read "France", while the other's read "England". Any human who accidentally tuned in to the channel would assume that the men were ambassadors or something. However, there were others who recognized them for what they were: living personifications of their respective countries.

After a few seconds of France's winking and England's grumbling, the two seemed to focus. They had most likely been given a cue by an off-site interviewer. Undoubtedly another country, as such a job would not be entrusted to a human.

Monaco – and the countless other viewers – quickly learned the identity of the interviewer as the image on-screen split in half. The two men were now on one side of the screen, while a third was on the other, obviously in another location.

The third man had short, blonde hair, much like the other two. His eyes were half-lidded, and he held a satisfied smile on his face, as though he knew something you only _wished_ you knew. Oddly enough, he was wearing a pink shirt. If one looked closely, they would see that it was a blouse. The third man's namecard read "Poland".

"Hey, everyone! Poland here~. I'm here to, like, interview those guys over there!" Poland said, pointing to his left, where he knew the other screen would be. "Like, how are you guys doing? I hear things really suck at your place."

England's eye twitched in annoyance, but he did his best to hide it. "Well, Poland, what you've heard is true. There is quite a bit of dissatisfaction in our neck of the woods, and we owe it all to this wanker," he said, jerking his thumb in France's direction.

France chuckled in a strained way, before responding in mock upset. "Oh, _Angleterre_, I am hurt! How could you blame dear me for this atrocity?" before mumbling just loud enough to be heard, "_Because, _bien sûr_, it is _you _who has caused this."_

England growled at the other man, but managed to keep his cool.

"Hey, guys?" Poland interjected, sensing the harsh atmosphere from miles away, "Why don't you, like, tell the people watching what's up?"

France chuckled again, but this time, it seemed more mocking than anything. "But of course, _mon ami!_ I would be happy to inform our viewers of what the punk over here has done to us!"

"Watch it, frog," England muttered angrily, "You're just as much at fault as myself."

The two men glared at each other for a few moments, before their interviewer coughed awkwardly. "Uh, guys? Could you, like, get on with it?"

The other two nations' eyes widened, before they changed their glares into looks of desperation.

"_You tell them! You're the one who started all this!"_

"_No, you do it! It isn't my fault!"_

"_Of course it's your fault, you wanker! Just tell them!"_

The two whispered frantically to each other for a few moments, before deciding that France would say it. (England's logic being, "They like you better! You have a better chance of going unscathed if they attack!")

France gave the viewers an apologetic look, and sighed. _"Mes amis,_ I have some rather sad news for you. You may recall the environmentally-friendly vehicle I began producing three years ago. No other country was willing to make it, because of high production costs, but as my economy was quite healthy at the time, I was able to. Investors from many of your countries began to speculate heavily on the automobile. In order to keep up with the high demand, we began to build more and more factories, and train more and more workers in the making of the new vehicle."

"Everything was _magnifique_ for some time," France continued with a sad note in his voice, "as the cars were bought and resold in many other countries. However... before too long, people decided that the automobile was no longer worth what it cost, and ceased buying it! More and more people sold, and fewer and fewer bought. Before long, the factory workers were out of their jobs, and there was a mad scramble to get rid of the cars that nobody would buy." France paused for breath; his voice had raised in pitch and tempo as he spoke, panic seeping in to every word.

The man sighed once again. He looked directly into the camera, as though he were speaking to the viewers individually."Of course, this is terrible news for myself, but it is bad for everyone else. For, you see, the people who distributed the cars in all of your countries were out of jobs as well! The people of your countries are all in the same boat as myself. Too much supply, and far too little demand. I trust you all understand what this means?" France sniffled, as if to further emphasize his point.

"Yes, that is right, _mes amis_! We are all out of luck. The bubble has burst, and now we are all paying for it. I offer my sincerest apologies, and I promise that I am working on a solution." France kept his gaze directed at the camera. He seemed close to tears, but he didn't speak any more, instead allowing his words to sink in.

By the time France's little speech had ended, Poland was dumbstruck. He seemed to take a few moments to rewind, and work out what France had said. When he realized what it all meant, his eyes shot open fully, a rare occurrence for him. "W-What! Like, no way is this happening! This is totally uncool!" he said, panic in his eyes, before he realized something else.

"Wait... Like, what does England have to do with all this?" Poland asked in confusion.

France glared at the other nation, who had ducked his head as soon as his name left Poland's lips.

"_Angleterre _is responsible because _he_ was the one who started the mad dash to speculate on those automobiles!" France exclaimed, spitting the other man's name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Those last words seemed to open the floodgate of chaos. Poland was talking a mile a minute, while France and England yelled back and forth, both of their faces bright red in anger and shame.

And then, the screen went black. A commercial started, and Monaco sighed wearily. She opened the channel guide, hoping for something else, but to no avail. The same pre-recorded interview would be playing for the rest of the day, and probably tomorrow too. In fact, it would probably be on the day after that, and the day after that, as well. After all, that same interview had been playing on that channel for two long weeks.

**~o~**

**A/N**

Okay, I'm _pretty sure_ France's little speech was accurate. But if that wouldn't actually work, please feel free to correct me ^_^;;

Anyway, there's the prologue. I hope you enjoy ^_^

_P.S. 3:53 PM 6/21/2011_

_I just finished typing chapter two. Today was the last day of school, and only about two hours long, so I had time :3 Although I should've finished it a week or two ago... but whatever. Just gotta get it beta'd, fix it up, and post the prologue :3_


	2. War

Written 8:24 PM 5/28/2011 – 11:30 PM 6/10/2011

**A/N**

The first couple of chapters are mainly just getting everyone where they need to be. The plot starts around chapter three.

**Much thanks to xChibi-Nick for beta-ing :3**

**I own nothing.**

**~o~**

"_War is a cowardly escape from the problems of peace."_

Thomas Mann

oOo

The moment Monaco drifted into consciousness, she knew it would be a shitty day. For one thing, it was unbelievably humid. She could feel the thick, damp air clinging to every square centimeter of her skin, filling every pore. It was a very oppressing feeling, and she knew it could only give way to an equally oppressing day.

Monaco felt around for her glasses before sliding sleepily out of her bed. She looked out the window to find the sky cloaked in gray clouds. She wrinkled her nose in distaste before leaving the room.

Two pieces of bread found themselves in a mildly rusty toaster a few moments later. The young woman in the kitchen sat in an old wooden chair, braiding her hair as she waited for her toast to finish._ 'It isn't what I normally eat,' _she thought to herself,_ 'but I don't have much else right now...'_

Her feeble attempt at cheering herself up failed miserably, as it had done for the last two weeks. She had always been a bit reliant on her old friend, France, but with his home in a state of disaster, she had nobody to turn to. Besides that, she had been hit quite hard by the economic crash-and-burn. Almost everyone had.

Monaco's dismal thoughts were pushed aside when she heard the toast pop up. She set the crisp bread on a plate and went to the living room, turning on the TV. As the dusty screen sprang to life, she silently begged for _something _new. Anything but that interview.

Alas, her hopes were in vain. Monaco sighed resignedly, and munched on her toast as the interview played. "Dammit," she mumbled to herself, "when are they going to show something new? The least they could do is keep up-to-date." Monaco watched the television, gloom overtaking her features.

As if on cue, the interview switched off. Monaco jumped in surprise. The screen went to static for a few moments, before clearing up to show a very distressed Poland.

"Ohmigod, guys! This is, like, totally not good! You'll never believe what's happening!" The blonde was frantic, eyes wide and arms flailing. "Ohmigodyou''regonnadieohmigodOMGWE'REGONNA-"

Lithuania, who had apparently been off-screen, clapped a hand over his friend's mouth. "Calm down. Nobody understands a word you say when you do that," he said, attempting to shut the other up. Unfortunately, Poland was too far gone, and continued to panic. His shouts were muffled, but audible.

Lithuania sighed wearily. "There's already enough trouble without adding him in..." he mumbled, before turning to face the camera. "Hello. Since my friend here is freaking out a bit at the moment, I will fill you in on what is happening."

Poland took this moment to pull his friend's hand away and shout into the camera "FRANCE AND ENGLAND ARE GONNA KILL US ALL!"

Lithuania choked. "N-no, that's not quite it... P-please ignore him." He glanced at Poland out of the corner of his eye. "Thanks to your little outburst, half of our audience has probably already panicked."

Sighing, Lithuania continued. "As some of you may have guessed by now, France and England have declared war on each other."

"I am sure the last two weeks have been pressing for everyone, and the lack of news can't have helped. We apologize for that, but many of us were scrambling to get out of the crossfire. Those of you who are near France or England, including in Guernsey, Belgium, Netherlands, Luxembourg, Ireland, Scotland and Wales, should evacuate as soon as possible to avoid being caught in the middle of everything. Those of you in Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Germany, Spain, Monaco, Italy, and Austria, where those countries border France, are also urged to evacuate as soon as possible."

Lithuania had an apologetic look on his face. "We are sorry for the inconvenience, but this is a safety issue. Nobody's quite sure what France or England will try, and it'd be better if we could keep civilians out of the way when something happens. There's no doubt in any of our minds that something _will _happen."

"Please," he continued, "pass the word to others who may not have been able to tune in today. We need to keep everyone safe." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before whispering something to someone. The on-screen image wavered, before Lithuania said quickly, "Stay safe. All of you."

oOo

Monaco laid back on the couch cushions, unable to pull her eyes away from the screen even after Lithuania and Poland were replaced by the interview from before. As her mind slowly kicked back into gear, she began to realize what had happened.

She ran out of the room, and into her bedroom to the computer. She quickly turned it on. As the machine whirred to life, Monaco ran over what had happened in her head. _'France and England are at war. Most of eastern Europe has been told to evacuate. Including me.' _That alone was enough to make her panic, but Monaco kept going. _'That broadcast was live. It interrupted the interview. It may have been on other channels as well. Lithuania and Poland may have just broadcasted live to the world. Including to humans.' _That was worrying, but Monaco couldn't recall Lithuania referring to himself or Poland as such. In fact, when Poland had shouted that 'France and England will kill us all', Lithuania had attempted to cover for the near-slip up.

Monaco sighed in relief. They were safe, for now. If the humans discovered what they were, there would be panic, and quite possibly assassination attempts. Not that humans could kill them anyway, but it would certainly be inconvenient.

Monaco thought back to what Lithuania had said just before cutting off. _"Stay safe. All of you."_

_'Was he talking to us?' _It seemed unlikely, but... he had done something before saying that. He whispered something to someone off-screen, probably to someone who was doing the actual broadcast. Latvia, maybe? Monaco shook her head, trying to get back on track. _'He whispered something... Could he have cut the broadcast except to the TVs of other personifications? Is that even possible?'_

At this point, the computer was ready to go. Monaco opened her browser, and went to her favorite news-based website, hoping to find something on the broadcast. The website operated much like a blog, so it wasn't too farfetched of an idea. The website's owner could, with relative ease, post a quick article on recent news.

Of course, the news Monaco was looking for needed a little time. It was just aired about ten minutes earlier. Monaco sat for almost an hour, refreshing the page every few minutes, before...

**FRANCE AND ENGLAND AT WAR?**

I bet most of you have heard already, but France and England seem to have declared war on each other! Just a little while ago, two young men somehow hijacked the broadcasts of nearly every television channel in the world. I've heard rumors that they did the same to the radio stations.

The first man was in a terrible state. He was too freaked out to even speak properly. Anyone who was watching should've known right away that something was wrong. However, nobody was quite sure _what_ the problem was until the man's friend came on. The friend quickly calmed him down, and explained that France and England had declared war on each other. Then, he told people in several European countries to evacuate for safety reasons.

This is kind of hard to swallow all at once, especially when it's from two random guys who took over the channels to get the message out. In fact, many people are saying that it's all a hoax. That _would_ make more sense.

However, the heads of government in both England and France have confirmed the declaration of war. Neither of them commented on the call for evacuation, but from the looks on their faces when asked about it, they probably agreed.

Officials in several countries are trying to track the mysterious broadcasters, but they don't seem to have found them yet.

That's all I've got for now. Keep one eye on your TV (or one ear on your radio), and be ready to run! I'll keep you updated here.

oOo

Monaco sighed. It was as she had thought. The broadcast had been global, and on almost every channel in the world. It wasn't a big surprise, when she thought of it. If Poland and Lithuania had wanted to get the word out, of course they would have to do something like this. Still, the scale of it was amazing. "Maybe they got Estonia to help?" Monaco mumbled to herself. "He's good with electronics, isn't he?"

She shook her head, as if to clear it, before standing up. The national personification walked slowly to her window, peering outside. It was just as dismal, gray, and muggy as before, but now it held an ominous air. War was not far away from her homeland. Her pillar of support had crumbled, and was now going off to do battle. Monaco could only hope that the rest of the world wouldn't follow suit, or it'd be World War Three.

oOo

A little over 7,000 kilometers away, on a small island somewhere north of Madagascar, another young woman was in a similar position. Dark hair blew in the breeze as she leaned her head out a window. She gazed at her city sadly. It had seen better days.

Seychelles had not been hit as hard as some others by the economic collapse, but it definitely hadn't helped her any. Even though she was so far from France geographically, she was fairly close in other ways. While Seychelles had not participated much in the speculation of the French cars, she had important economic ties with countries who had. So, like a domino in a line, she had fallen the same way almost everyone else had.

And not only that, but her adoptive brothers were going to war with each other! They'd never gotten along very well, but they were her brothers, and they weren't supposed to fight like _this!_

The normally cheerful young woman frowned at the people running around on the street below. It wasn't quite chaos down there, but it was as close as she had gotten in a while. The people were panicking. It was sad, as the city was usually such a happy place. Seychelles wondered briefly if the other countries were like this too.

She sighed, walking away from the window. She sat heavily on the bed, melancholy still hanging over her head like a storm cloud. Just as she fell back on her large, fluffy pillows, a shock of lightning came down from her metaphorical storm cloud, jolting her eyes open. It wasn't quite a "lightbulb" moment, but it was as close as she could get in her current state.

Seychelles sat up slowly. "The other countries," she mumbled to herself. "Of course! That's it!"

A grin found itself spread across Seychelles' face as the young woman jumped up from her bed. "If I can help them, maybe they'll help me, too!"

With her cheer returned to it's rightful place, Seychelles began packing a suitcase. In a glee-induced blur, she threw in several things, zipped the suitcase, grabbed it, and had one foot out the door. However, she suddenly remembered a few important things.

For one thing, she didn't have plane tickets.

For another, she had no idea where to go.

Frowning slightly, Seychelles closed the door. She left her suitcase by the door, went to her computer, and found a map of Europe.

oOo

The night was dark and cold. A tawny owl's call of _"kew-wick" _could be heard in the distance, and a wavering response of _"hoo... ho, ho, hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo" _came not long after. The moon glistened silver, reaching with long fingers into every crack and crevice. Green leaves rustled softly in the dark, contributing to the calm atmosphere. If day was time of man, the time when they lived and worked and played and fought, then night was the time of nature. In this peaceful time so free of the meddling of humankind and its many allies and enemies, a lone figure stood.

He paced back and forth in his fortress, contemplating his next move. It seemed hasty. His boss had advised against it, as it could just as soon lead to doom as victory. The man enshrouded in darkness couldn't help but agree, but this battle had been years in the making. He and his adversary had been at each other's throats for more than a thousand years. As their technologies advanced and their loathings grew, the man's current position should've been the obvious next step. It would've inevitably come to this, no matter how much others denied it.

The man stared with mixed feelings at the simple object. It was a small red button, encased in glass, and sitting silently on his desk. He could press it. Such a simple action, with so much power behind it. But it was risky, and harsh. The battle had hardly begun, hadn't it? Why would he use such massive force so early in the game?

But...

The battle hadn't "hardly begun". It had begun so many hundreds of years ago, too many to count. This wasn't rash, or hasty, or risky. Not really. It was the obvious next step.

With this in mind, the man crossed the room in a few strides of his long legs. Hesitantly, he opened the glass case. _'So fragile,'_ he thought, _'So easy to destroy. Just like everything else is. Everything was always so fragile. Held in such a delicate balance...' _A tear fell to the unguarded button. The red below it and the haze of night made the droplet appear red as blood. Red and deep and thick, just like blood. The blood that would soon be on his hands.

He reached down, and brushed the droplet _(Tear or blood? It's impossible to tell.) _from its bright red perch. Such a simple gesture. So easy, as the liquid offered no resistance. Defenseless.

Before the next droplet could fall from the man's crystal eyes, he rested the same thumb upon the button. Slowly, ever so slowly, he added pressure. When he could bear it no longer, he pressed down, hard. Too hard, really. He could've moved it so easily with only a little bit of effort, as it offered so little resistance. So simple, so defenseless. So sad.

oOo

Around 400 kilometers away from the man, at a point halfway between Amsterdam, Netherlands and Ipswich, England, the North Sea exploded.

**~o~**

_P.S. 11:46 AM 6/30/2011_

_Hello, readers and me from last week~ Just finished chapter three. It's late and my back hurts from sitting in front of the computer for so long. But, hey, I got another chapter out, so I'd say it's worth it :3_


	3. Plans

Written 11:19 AM 6/11/2011 – 3:51 PM 6/21/2011

**A/N**

The day I finished this chapter was the last day of school :3 Now I'll have more time for writing~ (because I have no life and therefore little better to do over summer break :P Be thankful for my lack of a life. It means faster updates.)

**Much thanks to xChibi-Nick for beta-ing :3**

**I own nothing.**

**~o~**

"There are no innocent bystanders."

William S. Burroughs

oOo

The room was enormous. It was large enough to seat well over 200 people comfortably. The ceiling was very high, and the chairs and desks sat in a semi-circle, curved around the stage below them. Each desk had a microphone, and the floors were a mess of rugs and duct tape, in an attempt to keep all the wires safe. On the stage was a table with eight more microphones. There were large speakers set up beside the table, and a cardboard box rested on top of one of them. Above the stage was a huge political map of the world, with ladders on either side of it. It was untidy, yet very effective for large meetings.

Sadly, the room had fallen into disuse over the years. Everything was in working order, it seemed, but the floors and chairs creaked and the desks were covered in dust.

Nobody was certain exactly when or why they had stopped using this room for World Meetings, but they suspected it was when the meetings stopped being productive. People had stopped coming, and less and less work was done. Before long, they were down to Russia, east Asia, two-thirds of North America, and most of Europe, along with anyone else they could drag to the "World Meetings". They weren't really World Meetings anymore, now that only a fraction of the northern hemisphere actually attended.

Sweden carried Sealand into the old conference room. The micronation held HanaTamago in his own arms. The scene would've been quite comical, if not for the tears in Sealand's eyes, the uncharacteristic fear in Sweden's, and the circumstances under which they were there.

Finland walked beside Sweden, trying to comfort his "husband" and "child" (he couldn't bear to call them as such, because it would leave him open to being called the "wife"). All of his attempts failed; he was too frightened to effectively comfort anyone. Before long, he fell silent.

The small family sat together, and watched as the other nations filed into the room. There were at least three times as many people as they usually saw. This was to be a real World Meeting.

oOo

Within two hours, approximately 200 national personifications had gathered in the conference room. Every country in the world, along with Sealand, Prussia, and several dependencies, was represented in that room. It was the first real World Meeting in hundreds of years.

As the nations began to settle down, they noticed eight other nations seated on the stage. At the table, each with a microphone, were China, America, Germany, Brazil, Egypt, South Africa, Russia, and Australia.

In the past, when large meetings like this were the norm, there had always been a group of three to eight nations at the table. They were usually the ones who called the meetings, and the groups changed each time. After most of the countries stopped coming to the meetings, the groups became individuals. They tried to start the discussions and help the debates along, as they had done before, but most everyone had stopped caring. The position had meant nothing for a long time, but as China picked up his microphone and began to speak, everyone snapped to attention.

"Thank you all for coming to this meeting, aru. I know it has been a very long time since we gathered this way, but this is very important, aru," he said in the calm, soothing voice of an old friend. Many nations relaxed a bit, despite the serious atmosphere.

China glanced at Germany, his cue. "We have called this meeting tonight because of a major safety concern," he said.

Germany spoke with clear authority, but made an attempt to keep his voice level. If the others saw him panic, they would do the same. After all, he was supposed to be one of the mature, steady, calm ones. "Five hours ago, France launched a nuclear bomb. It landed in the North Sea, about halfway between Ipswich, England and Amsterdam, Netherlands."

At the mention of Ipswich, Sealand buried his head in Sweden's shoulder. Ipswich was one of the closest cities to him. If he had been further out in the sea, he may have been hit.

"While nobody was hurt," Germany continued, "this is still a major concern."

America was next to speak. He seemed down, unlike his usual peppy attitude. His words were unsteady, as if he would break out in tears at any moment. "France and E-England just declared war on each other a week ago, a-and they're already pulling out the big guns."

His voice wavered at the end of his sentence, but he tried to push on. "If the war is n-nuclear already, nobody wants to be nearby when it... if they... later on."

America nodded to Egypt, signaling that he was done. America stepped out of the room for a moment to regain what little composure he had.

"Therefore," Egypt said in a quiet yet serious tone, "we must organize ourselves. If we want to survive this, we must gather together, and stay away from those two." Never one to talk much, Egypt gave South Africa his cue.

"We think that the best course of action would be to form small groups. That way, nobody will be alone, and too many of us won't all be in one area," he said. His voice was strong and stable, much like Germany's, but with the added authority that came with his much longer history.

"Each of you will get to pick your own groups, da," Russia continued. "We recommend that you choose people near you geographically, so that you will be able to stay near your own country, just in case." Throughout his part of the speech, Russia retained his usual smile. As usual, it didn't reach his eyes. However, instead of cruelty, anger or bloodlust gleaming in his violet eyes, there was a defined sadness.

Brazil spoke next. Despite the circumstances, her words came with all the confidence and care of an older sister. "Each group will choose a location, and stay there. Be sure to choose a place within the land of one of the nations in your group. It'd be best to choose a place as far from France and England as possible."

"If you agree to this plan, please raise your hand," Australia finished. Like America, his usually cheerful personality had been quite shaken (more shaken than it probably should have been, considering the distance between his lands and the attack). Between this, and the fact that he hadn't led a meeting in at least a hundred and fifty years, the other seven had let him end the speech.

Several hands went up in agreement, and several more followed. Before long, most hands were raised.

"Wait a minute," Switzerland interjected, standing up. "What about supplies, for ourselves and our people? We can survive with little, but our people will need more."

"We will all share supplies," China answered. "All of western Europe is in a state of emergency. People who are evacuating have been told to bring supplies with them. People in nearby regions are instructed to cooperate, and to help in any way they can. We must cooperate if we wish to survive."

Switzerland seemed to think it over, before sitting back down. Most of the remaining hands went up. Everyone seemed to be in agreement with the plan.

Brazil stood up. "All right. Let's form our groups. It's recommended that you have no more than twenty nations to each group, and no less than five. When you're ready, come up here and tell one of us who's in your group and where you'll be staying. We'll keep a record of who's on each group, and put up a marker on the map for each location," she said, opening the cardboard box on top of the speaker. The box was filled with colorful pins. Each pin had a bright red ribbon on it. They were designed to be clearly visible against the blue-and-green map.

The other nations began walking around, speaking to each other. A few groups went to the table to bring one of the eight into their group. Russia managed to form a group without leaving his seat.

The first group to go up was Switzerland and Liechtenstein. Switzerland proclaimed (loudly) that he and his sister would not be leaving their home. Brazil moved one of the ladders, climbed up it, and reluctantly placed a marker on Switzerland.

The next group was Hungary and Austria. Hungary said the same thing as Switzerland, but more quietly, and without flailing a gun around. Brazil placed a marker on Austria.

The third group was Sweden, Finland, and Sealand. They chose Sweden as their location, and Brazil placed the third marker.

Russia, Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania wound up in a group together, of course. However, Poland demanded to be in the group with Lithuania, and China wanted to merge his group (which consisted of most of southeast Asia) with Russia's, for some inexplicable reason. Belarus tagged along to make sure nobody got too close to her brother. They chose Russia for a location.

Italy went with Germany, of course, and he brought his younger brother Seborga. Japan joined with them, as they hadn't been together as friends in a long time, and he brought Greece with. Japan offered to make his country their location, as it was furthest from the warring nations. The others agreed.

Spain and Romano were together almost immediately, although Romano grumbled about it a bit. Spain brought Prussia into their group, as well, and the two complained about how their "Bad Touch Trio" was down to a duo because of France. Prussia dragged Canada into the group, claiming that he would make them all breakfast. They also decided to stay in Canada. Canada himself was silent through this, but smiled nonetheless.

The Nordics, aside from Sweden and Finland, joined together. Denmark brought Netherlands and Belgium along, and they brought Luxembourg. Despite the chain of nations leading into this group, it still wound up one of the smallest. They chose Iceland for a location.

Several more groups came up, had their names recorded, and had markers placed. After a bit of shuffling when a few nations wanted to switch groups, everything was finalized. They ended with a total of nineteen groups.

When everyone seemed to be satisfied, they all began heading home to pack.

oOo

Monaco frowned. The other nations were filing out of the old conference room, which had last been used when she was less than six-hundred years old, but she stayed. The nation glared at the nineteen dots on the world map as if they had personally offended her.

Monaco, despite the fact that she was a fairly sociable nation, had not joined any of the groups.

Throughout the entire meeting, she had sat near the back of the room, still and silent. She had not raised her hand when the time came, nor had she stood and mingled with the other nations. She had not gone up to the table to have her name listed, and she was not represented by one of the brightly colored push pins. In fact, she had hardly moved the entire time. Monaco's cold glare had flitted from one nation to the next, going over close to two-hundred figures, memorizing the same number of faces.

Monaco was completely and utterly pissed.

It wasn't a normal thing for her. She was usually a calm, level-headed, polite person. But the moment she heard the plan, and saw how everyone so easily agreed to it, she was shaking with barely suppressed anger.

_'The plan.'_ It made her teeth grind together just thinking about it. _'That's all they could come up with? They're going to _hide!_ What about everyone else? The people who can't or won't evacuate? And what about the lands of countries nearby? The channel islands? Sealand? Belgium? They're all just going to abandon their lands and _hide?_'_ Thoughts flickered through her head furiously. They licked at the sides of her head like a flame. The more she thought, the angrier she got, until the flame grew into a bonfire.

_'How could they do this? At least one of them should've had the sense to do something! We can't just run away from this problem!' _she thought. _'We have to do something about it! We have to save ourselves, and this isn't the way to do it.'_

Unfortunately, nobody else thought so. As Monaco looked around the room, she saw that it was empty. Everyone else had left to prepare. Monaco's glare fell, leaving behind a sorrow that filled the air around her. Her eyes scrolled over the room once again, and then a third time, as whatever hope was left in her withered. _'Nobody's left,'_ she thought sadly. A small sigh escaped her lips as she stood to leave.

"You look sad. What's wrong?"

Monaco let out a startled cry. She turned to find a young woman with tan skin, brown hair, and a light blue dress. The young woman was staring at her with curious, brown eyes and an innocent smile, as if she hadn't just scared the crap out of a total stranger.

Adjusting her glasses, Monaco recognized the woman as one of France's relatives, whom she had met in passing once at a large party the man had hosted. Maybe a former colony of his? It didn't seem unlikely, as France had had his fair share of explorers back in the day.

The woman before her tilted her head curiously at the lack of response she had gotten from the other nation, and decided to try again. Monaco jumped slightly as the question was repeated, effectively pulling her out of her musings.

"Nothing's wrong," she replied.

The young woman's eyebrows scrunched together. She was beginning to invade Monaco's personal space, leaning in as if to better scrutinize the other's face. "No, something's wrong. I can tell," the strange woman stated with certainty.

Monaco, quickly tiring of the other nation's nosiness, shot her a mild glare. "Oh? How would you know?" she asked irritably.

"Well, for one, it's all over your face. Someone might as well have written 'THIS PERSON IS UNHAPPY' in big block letters."

Monaco's glare changed to a look of confusion.

"Your eyebrows were furrowed, you were frowning, and your posture was hunched over," the woman clarified.

As Monaco tried to say something, the young woman continued. "Also, you sighed. It wasn't large, but it was clearly not out of happiness."

Once again, Monaco tried to interject, but the smirking woman spoke first. "Lastly, you didn't participate in the meeting. You were too busy grumbling and glaring. You didn't even join a group."

Said glare returned, full-force. "Were you watching me the whole time?" she hissed. At first she had found the young woman annoying and nosy, but at this point, Monaco added "creepy" to the list. Who stares at some stranger during a meeting?

The other woman jumped up, sitting on the desk behind her. Her gaze turned upwards, and she appeared to think about the question for a moment. "Well, not the whole time. But I watched you for most of the meeting, so I suppose it's close enough."

Monaco was startled by the blunt honesty of the response. "Why were you watching me? Who are you, anyway?" She took a step back, suddenly wanting to put distance between herself and the creepy stranger.

If the other woman noticed this, she ignored it in favor of offering her hand and a cheerful smile. "I'm Seychelles. A small island nation north of Madagascar, if you were wondering. I was watching you because you were the only one who didn't raise their hand."

Monaco looked from the creepy stalker's – no, Seychelles – hand to her face and back again, before hesitantly shaking it. "I'm Monaco."

Seychelles' smile went from cheerful to creepy, and a mischievous shine came over her eyes. "Yes, I know who you are."

Monaco's eyes widened, and she quickly retracted her hand. That grin didn't sit well with her. "W-What! You really are a creepy stalker!"

"No, I know you through one of my brothers," Seychelles snickered. "You're France's friend. He told me about you once."

Monaco took a deep breath, internally scolding herself for freaking out. Yes, this other nation was certainly creepy. And nosy, and annoying. She, for whatever reason, seemed to enjoy freaking Monaco out. But something Seychelles had said caught her attention, and she decided to focus on that for the time being. "You said that you were watching me because I didn't raise my hand. Why?"

Seychelles tilted her head, looking at Monaco as if she had asked an extremely obvious question. _'Hm... Yes, Monaco is definitely entertaining. But more importantly, she's the only one who can help.'_ With this in mind, Seychelles answered. "If you didn't raise your hand, it means you didn't agree with their plan. I have a plan of my own, but I need some help for it to work."

Monaco raised an eyebrow at Seychelles' suddenly serious tone, but said nothing.

"Since votes go by majority rule, it didn't matter that we didn't raise our hands. Two out of over two-hundred doesn't make much of a difference. However, we don't have to follow their plan if we don't want to," the younger nation continued. "And we don't, because their plan won't help anything. While they're all sitting around, France and England could destroy everything. And they'll all be too far away to help. In fact, some of them are probably leaving right now."

Monaco nodded in agreement. They seemed to be on the same page.

"So," Seychelles said, "we need to do something about this ourselves! We have to try to end this before it gets really bad. I mean, it's already really bad. But we need to stop them before things get really really bad. Right?" Seychelles paused, took a deep breath, and kept going. "Anyway, there's one problem with that."

"France and England have nuclear weapons and large armies, and we don't?" Monaco offered.

"Exactly!" Sechelles said with a grin. "So we'll need more help! Which means we have to go around and get all the nations that ran away and get them to help us!" she finished, beaming at the nation in front of her.

Monaco blinked. She looked at Seychelles for a moment, before turning on her heel, and walking away.

Seychelles leaped off the desk after her. "Hey, wait! Where are you going?"

Monaco glanced over her shoulder to respond, but kept walking. "I knew you were crazy, but this is just ridiculous."

Seychelles caught up with the other nation with ease, and grabbed her arm. "I'm not crazy! How is my idea crazy?"

"Do you know how long it would take to gather everyone?" Monaco nearly shouted. She pulled her arm away roughly, and pointed at the map in front of them. It seemed much larger up close. "There are nineteen groups scattered all over the world. If France launched a nuke the week after the war was declared, do you think we'll have time to travel the world? And what if a group refuses to come back? You were right when you said we couldn't do this with only two of us. But if it's this bad now, how do you think things will be a month from now? I'd bet that's how long it takes them to bring forth a nuclear apocalypse!"

Seychelles pouted. "That's my point!" she exclaimed. "We have to hurry and get everyone, or else things will only get worse!"

Monaco glared at the younger nation. "How do you propose we do that? There are nineteen groups. We can't just teleport, and it's not like we know where they are. All we know is what country each group is in. That doesn't help much. How do you expect to get to each group in time, convince them all to join us, and come back to Europe before France and England destroy it?"

Seychelles struggled to find an answer, but couldn't She knew that Monaco had a good point. The odds against her plan seemed insurmountable. But she couldn't give up now. "Well, do you have a better idea?"

Monaco paused. She thought for a moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut again. "No," she growled, "but that doesn't mean that your idea will work."

"Doesn't mean it won't," Seychelles shot back. "Besides, would you rather try something that might work, or sit around and wait for the apocalypse?"

Monaco stared, dumbfounded. She couldn't think of an answer to that. _'She might be annoying, nosy, creepy, and naive, and she might enjoy freaking me out, but she isn't stupid,' _Monaco thought. "Fine. I'll help."

And they shook on it.

**~o~**

**A/N**

Yes~ Finished! :3 This took longer to type than it should've ;_; But oh well. I did it~ :D

_P.S. 11:55__ AM 7/30/2011_

_^_^;;; I apologize for the long wait. I'm a bit stuck on chapter 4. I'll try to work it out, though~_


	4. Preparation and Travel

Written 5:10 PM 6/21/2011 – 4:15 PM 6/30/2011

**Much thanks to xChibi-Nick for beta-ing :3**

**I own nothing.**

**~o~**

_"If you make it plain you like people, it's hard for them to resist liking you back."_

Lois McMaster Bujold

oOo

"Dammit."

That word had been used many times in the last twenty minutes. Seychelles counted fourteen, but she may have missed a few in that long chain of them a few minutes earlier. Each time the word was spoken, it was with different volume, pitch, and stress, and Seychelles was fascinated in the same way a young child would be. It was almost like a whole new language.

There was a loud crash from upstairs, and a rather loud "DAMMIT!"

_'High volume, medium __pitch, stress on the first syllable,' _Seychelles noted. Monaco was pissed. Judging by the crash that had sounded, and the jostling of wood against metal that could be heard, the dresser was giving her trouble. Seychelles considered going up to help her not-exactly-friend, but quickly dismissed the idea. She had tried to help Monaco pack five minutes in, but had been met with a pillow to the face and an unintelligible rant.

Seychelles sighed, reclining on the couch. The somewhat gross couch. When they had returned to Monaco's apartment, Seychelles with her own suitcase in tow, the older nation had locked her out for almost ten minutes and tried to clean the place up a bit. Seychelles didn't want to think about what the living room had looked like before. But hey, she could see the floor.

Seychelles couldn't help but wonder whether or not that was a good thing.

She was shocked out of her thoughts at another, much louder crash, and a colorful string of curses. She listened in a strange mixture of awe and concern, before Monaco yelled, "SEYCHELLES. GET UP HERE."

She ran up the stairs, wondering what had caused the change of heart. When she flung the door open to find Monaco underneath a toppled dresser, glaring at the floor, she nearly fell over herself. Seychelles tried very, very hard not to burst out laughing as she helped the other from under the large piece of furniture.

"Are you okay?" she asked once she trusted herself not to giggle.

Monaco huffed a bit, before kicking the dresser in frustration. "Yeah, I'm fine. Stupid drawers wouldn't open."

Seychelles paused, blinked up at the other nation, and promptly fell on her ass.

Monaco glared at the cackling young woman. "What are you laughing at?" she growled.

"Sorry, sorry!" Seychelles managed to say through her quickly subsiding giggles. "Just, how did you go from the drawer being stuck to having the whole dresser on top of you?"

Monaco pouted, crossing her arms in a display of childishness. "I pulled on it too hard, and it fell."

The younger of the two finally composed herself with a deep breath or two, and stood up. "Are you sure you don't need any help?" she offered.

Monaco grudgingly accepted, and the two went about packing the rest of Monaco's things into a suitcase. There was surprisingly little there: some clothing, an old, ragged-looking pillow that Monaco insisted on bringing, and some toiletries.

The two nations went downstairs to relax on the couch. They had decided earlier to go to Switzerland and Liechtenstein first. While they had been sitting in the back of the room, away from the world map, with a lot of noise between the front and back, Switzerland's yelling had carried quite nicely. They knew that the two would be in Switzerland, thanks to the nation's volume, and they knew that they would be at Switzerland's home, simply because there's no other place the siblings would go. So Monaco and Seychelles had a starting point, at least.

Seychelles glanced around the room. It truly was a mess, even though Monaco had tried to clean up. Seychelles couldn't help but wonder why. Monaco, as a country, was fancy and expensive, with a lot of French influence, wasn't it?

But if she thought about it that way, it kind of made sense. Monaco was a small country bordering France with a lot of influence from the other country, so it stood to reason that she had been at least somewhat dependent on him. But if she depended on him too much, the economic collapse would have plunged her into... well... this.

Seychelles looked over at said nation, to find her fidgeting uneasily with the stitching of the old couch. Monaco was obviously uncomfortable. _'It's either the upcoming trip, the state of her house, or the stress of the last few weeks that has her on edge,' _Seychelles thought to herself. She couldn't help but smirk when Monaco tried to subtly hide a stain (most likely coffee) on the carpet under her foot. 'Number two it is, then.'

oOo

Monaco couldn't think. She couldn't focus on anything as her eyes flickered around the room. She hadn't thought much of its state beyond being annoyed, but now she had company. _'Company,'_ Monaco thought, glancing at the nation beside her._ 'That's one word for her.' _Some other words Monaco associated with the other nation were "annoying", "childish", and "naive".

Annoying was for obvious reasons. Seychelles took sick amusement in Monaco's discomfort, even intentionally causing it at times.

Childish was for her externally bubbly nature, and the underlying mischievousness. Although Monaco found that she couldn't complain much; she had her moments, too.

And naive covered everything else. The other nation, while not that much younger than Monaco herself, didn't act her age. For a near immortal being, who had already lived for around five hundred years, she was far too cheerful and worry-free. To the ever anxious Monaco, it was like meeting a space alien. The other nation made absolutely no sense.

However, despite all of the things that bothered Monaco, she had to admit that Seychelles did have some redeeming qualities. For one, she was friendly. Not in the overwhelming "acknowledge me" way some micronations and younger countries were, but genuinely friendly.

Also, despite her naivety, she wasn't an idiot. That much had been proven at least once before. She had come up with a course of action that, while the odds of it were slim to none, might work better than the one everyone else had decided to follow. And she had convinced Monaco to join in.

And thirdly, she was cheerful. Somehow, despite what had happened over the last few weeks, she could smile and laugh and annoy Monaco. She knew how to be serious if the situation called for it, but having fun was like second nature to her. It was rather refreshing, even if it confused Monaco to no end.

_'Wait,' _Monaco paused her train of thought, and rewound it a little. _'Did I just think of Seychelles' cheerfulness as both a good and a bad thing?'_

Monaco shook her head slightly. Her thoughts were becoming ridiculous, and less for consideration than to distract her from the room.

_'Damn.'_

Monaco's eyes returned to flickering about the room. For some reason that she didn't fully understand, the room wouldn't stay clean. Even though Monaco had done a fair job of cleaning in the ten minutes before she had let Seychelles in, the room looked no different. It had been this way since the economic collapse, and even if she tried to fix it up, it somehow wound up right back where it began. Monaco had a feeling that it was a bad omen of some sort.

Monaco's eyes landed on a coffee stain on the carpet. She tried to hide it with her foot, without being noticed. When she glanced at Seychelles, she saw that the younger nation had become overly relaxed, and - was that a smirk? Monaco's glance became a glare, which Seychelles easily deflected by pretending to ignore her. Monaco could tell that the other nation was watching her in her peripheral vision, but neither said anything.

oOo

Before long, it was time to go. The two nations took their suitcases, and left the apartment behind, much to Monaco's relief. They walked out to the parking lot, and put their suitcases in the trunk of Monaco's car. The small, sleek, and streamlined car was a shiny dark red in color. It looked luxurious compared to the apartment.

Seychelles hopped cheerfully into the passenger's side, a few road maps tucked under one arm. Monaco moved automatically to the driver's side. They pulled out of the parking lot with a single thing in each of their minds: _'This will be interesting.'_

oOo

Within the first half hour of the drive, they both realized that they were wrong. It was anything but interesting.

The scenery consisted of houses, stores, and other buildings, many of which had seen better days. Seychelles didn't want to think about how conditions must've been further north. It was disturbing how bad things had gotten in only a few weeks.

The car came to a stop, and Monaco looked at Seychelles expectantly. The navigator looked up to see a fork in the road. She glanced at the map in her hands, before pointing them in the right direction, and leaning her head against the window.

The drive had been nearly silent so far. The only noise came from the tires as they moved across the pavement. Both nations were too shaken by their surroundings to say much. Things seemed to have gotten worse since they had driven to Monaco's home from the airport all those hours ago. It shouldn't have been possible. But then, since when had the national personifications fit into reality? Nothing about them made sense by human standards, and this was no exception.

That didn't make it any easier.

oOo

The drive from Monaco city to Bern took over seven hours. There were several stops for food, gas, and bathroom breaks, and they got lost twice. They had switched seats halfway through the trip when Monaco got tired. The trip had been fairly quiet, despite Seychelles' presence.

At roughly 11 PM, Monaco and Seychelles reached Bern, Switzerland.

oOo

It was dark and chilly, as is to be expected so late at night. Monaco and Seychelles slipped quietly out of the car, and made their way up to the front door of the hotel. It was late, and they didn't want to wake Switzerland up, for fear of being shot at. So, they decided to spend the night at a cheap hotel near the trigger-happy nation's house.

They got a room quickly, and took the elevator up to their floor. The seven hours on the road had left no room for conversation. They each claimed a bed, laid down, and were asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

**~o~**  
><strong>AN**  
>Not entirely happy with this one, but I had to fit something between the previous chapter and the next. Well, I hope you enjoy it anyway.<p><em>P.S. 8:35 PM 1218/2011_

_Sorry for the wait. I know, I'm horrible =_=;; I haven't been able to start chapter four for various re__a__sons, including school, teenage drama, and writer's block. In fact, I all but forgot this fic existed for a couple of months xD But I remembered just now that I had this chapter as a backup, so I figure I might as well put it up. Thanks to all the wonderful people who are still bothering to read this fic, despite its slowness~ ^w^_


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